


A Single Truth

by missbecky



Category: Iron Man (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Offscreen canon character death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-28
Updated: 2015-02-28
Packaged: 2018-03-15 10:26:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 734
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3443726
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/missbecky/pseuds/missbecky
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The night Tony learns his parents have been killed, he finds comfort in remembering one simple thing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Single Truth

Tony is 21 that December, with nothing to do. Technically speaking he's on the payroll of the Stark Industries R & D Department, but he does what he wants, when he wants to do it. Sometimes he invents a new weapon that can kill thousands of people at a time. Most days he doesn't. He's bored and restless, and, everyone agrees, a selfish spoiled brat.

He's actually somewhat pleased with this reputation. It suits him.

So he's actively selfish when he refuses to accompany his parents to the Christmas party on the night of the 17th. He's utterly uninterested in rubbing elbows with the rich and famous. He doesn't want to get dressed up in a fancy tuxedo and pretend to care about what's happening in the world of high-stakes international weapons-making. Nope, he's going to stay home in a comfy T-shirt and jeans, order some pizza, drink a hell of a lot of beer, and work on that robot companion for Dummy. By midnight he'll be pleasantly drunk, design something new and amazing in a euphoric haze of alcohol and creation, and fall into bed in the middle of the night with black grease still ringing his fingernails.

It's a great plan, and he follows it to the letter.

What he didn't plan is Obadiah shaking him awake sometime later in the darkness, face pale but composed, giving him the news that both his parents have just been killed. A car accident, icy roads, the car mangled beyond recognition.

Shocked into sobriety, Tony feels a lance of pain slide into his chest, like he's just been impaled. Then everything is cut off, as though something vital and essential has been severed deep inside him.

He can't feel anything anymore.

Distantly he hears himself say, "Who was driving?"

"They think it was your father," Obie says.

Howard behind the wheel. Howard driving himself, not relying on... "And Jarvis?"

"He went to the hospital to identify the b—" Obie stops and clears his throat. "Them."

Jarvis at the hospital. Which means he's still alive. Tony closes his eyes and sags against the headboard. He's being selfish again, he knows it, but he doesn't give a shit. He doesn't care either that Obie doesn't get it, doesn't know what the real question was and why he would ask it, and for that he feels almost weak with gratitude.

It's a misunderstanding he never clears up, not in all the years he knows Obadiah.

"We have to go," Obie says.

He gets up and he puts some real clothes on and he gets in the car with Obie, and it's not until much later that he thinks he probably should have balked at that, putting himself at the mercy of the same icy roads that just killed his parents. But at the time it never even occurs to him to do anything except follow the steps of this ancient ritual that follows news of this nature.

Everyone at the hospital is quiet and sympathetic, their eyes downcast. They all say how sorry they are. Tony nods and makes automatic replies that he won't remember later. His brain is not recording these events, he is not making memories, he will not remember any of this after the fact. He is still numb all over, unable to feel anything at all.

Until a voice says his name, piercing the fog that surrounds him. He looks up and sees that the world has slipped quietly back into focus. He watches Jarvis walk toward him, the shoulders of his coat wet from melted snow, the white hair around his temples gleaming under the hospital lights. "My dear boy," says Jarvis. And then he hugs Tony.

Tony stands there for a moment, unsure what to do.

Then he decides, for the last time (or so he honestly believes on that black night), to be selfish.

He bursts into tears. He clings to Jarvis tightly, and he cries and he cries. But he never tells anyone, not ever, that he doesn't cry for his parents then. That will come later.

No, that night he cries for himself. Out of sheer desolate relief, for the man holding him as he sobs, for the single truth that makes all the pain bearable, the truth that has always made even the most awful things at least a little bit better.

Jarvis is here. He is not alone.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to Agent Carter, I have a lot of feelings about young Tony and his relationship with Edwin Jarvis (and hopefully Peggy Carter as well.)


End file.
